A Cold Day in Hell

Well, it’s the End of Days here in Austin, folks. For the last 48 hours, the news has been a grim parade of warnings on the radio, the TV, the internet: Stay inside! Do not attempt to contact loved ones! Lock your doors! Mercy kill your children! Prepare to use your orifices as currency to escape certain death at the hands of roaming bands of marauders!

I’m told we’re caught in the cross hairs of God’s very own wrath. Quiver before it, ye mortals.

mushroom-cloud_897102_GIFSoup.comNice try, but the Texan apocalypse looks nothing like that. Behold:

sleetwithface

The beast shall ascend out of the bottomless pit, and go into perdition: and they that dwell in Texas  shall wonder,what is this SLEET?

Yes, sleet. Sleet has transformed the proud population of Austin into a quivering pile of  yellow-bellied Jello babies. I mean, management distributed “In case of a Freeze” disaster manuals to everyone in my apartment complex last night. HR sent an “EMPLOYEES: Don’t be killed!” email yesterday at 2pm. Schools were delayed or closed long before the storm system approached the state. The streets are empty, save for the odd scrap of newspaper that blows across the road, borne aloft by arctic winds.

Let’s review the current weather forecast, shall we?

EVERYONE PANIC

EVERYONE PANIC

Mass hysteria, you contagious bitch, you’ll never have me! My Midwestern ass understands the mechanics of operating a vehicle in wintry conditions. I get that my pipes never have and never will freeze and explode, and I know we aren’t on the cusp of a societal collapse that will force us all to barter the profane use of our mouths and other parts to escape certain cannibalization. And yet….

And yet this morning I was peeking through the slats of my blinds into the parking lot to gaze upon the natural disaster that had been wrought upon the city overnight, praying to God my eyes would be met with horrors so I could just stay in my pajamas and drink coffee all day on the futon and not die like a dog in the frosty wreckage of my car at the bottom of a Hill Country crevasse.

But a couple of puddles and a light rain are all that met my eyes, and too proud to hide, I drove to work without incident and nary a patch of ice or snowflake met me along the way. But as I sit here in my mostly deserted office, drinking coffee, writing emails, billing, estimating, being mundane in every way, I wonder…do the Jello babies have it right?

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Words with Friends

Hey. We’re alive. But only barely.

Somehow Erin and I have had the same sort of week, the kind where someone in your office goes on vacation and all of the sudden you are doing two people’s full time jobs instead of just one and you’re still slightly new and everyone’s panties are in a bunch about things you only kind of understand and/or care about. The kind where you’re CC-ed in on a thousand different emails that don’t have anything to do with you or have everything to do with you and you start suffocating under the weight of just how mundane your Outlook-related stress is. The kind where by 3 pm you’re a mere a shell of a person, brain short-circuiting, patience pushed to the brink before it is maliciously punted right over the edge by some self important bitch who spreads her miserable, black unhappiness like the plague and then dares you to come back for more. The kind where you go to bed at 9 pm because you’re falling geriatrically asleep on your sofa but it’s okay because you don’t  really want to be alive anymore anyway.

As you might imagine, our work-time chats have reflected this. And really, this is the truest snapshot of our lives since we last spoke.

Exhibit A.

Stress-eating: it's real.

Stress-eating: it’s real.

Just kidding. You didn’t really think that was accurate right? Look a little closer*.

Exhibit B.

That's right.

Ahh, yes.

There will be much drinking tonight.

*The merits of swearing from a totally respectable and reputable source

The Enemy is Everywhere

Austin, TX. Monday 7:56 am:

“WHAT. IS. THAT.”

“What’s what?” Erin answered from her room.

“WHAT. THEFUCK. IS. THAT,” I repeated, my tone drawing her out of other room immediately.

A very large…something. On the floor. Unmoving. But with insect qualities. My brain wanted it to be a rabbit foot key chain.

Sometimes Erin wears barrettes and brooches like this.

Denial.

Is it…an orange and black feathery accessory that fell off of one of Erin’s purses?

Is it a moth? It MUST be a moth. Look, those..that..part appears to be…wings? And antennae. I walked to the other side of the couch, away from it while Erin performed her inspection from a safe distance.

“Uhhmm. I think it’s a roach?” Erin offered delicately.

I thought of my bed and its proximity to this creature. Cottage cheese and coffee threatened to come up on me. I have a hard enough time getting breakfast down as it is. I couldn’t get any nearer than three feet to help confirm. I couldn’t help confirm.

We put a tupperware over it and some weight on it and resolved to tell my pal Juan, the building guy, as soon as possible. “We will tell them. And they will SPRAY.”

I got in my car to head to work. My breakfast was still sitting high, ready to defy gravity with one mental misstep. I hoped his friends wouldn’t come to visit him while we’re gone. I considered the warnings that we’d received from our friends: bugs are a given here. I didn’t believe it, but here it was. Fruition. Then I wondered what other kinds of bugs we would encounter here in the wilds of Texas.

You see, Erin and I, we have a long and loathsome history with bugs. Continue reading

My Bloody Valentine

Megan:  so..apparently it’s valentine’s day?

Erin:  wait.

today

no

Megan:  haha

i can’t keep track of the date, but everyone on facebook says so?

Erin:  oooooh that’s what all that’s about

i am but a poor single person

i believe ritual suicide is expected of me today

Megan:  yes, have you ordered your red heart-spotted suicide stationary yet?

Erin:  i planned to make my own. with my blood.

before i drink poison while listening to “One is the Loneliest Number” on loop

have you taken any suicide measures yet?

Megan:  my bathtub is prepped for a romantic soak with a tragic ending

Erin:  nicely done

Megan:

and also

Erin:  bahahahaha

that last one sums up my feelings

Megan:  we win!

Please Don’t Go

Psst. Hey. You. Yeah, you Megan.

Oh, hey Blog. What’s up?

“What’s up”? Seriously? You ignore me for three weeks and then you’re all “What’s up?” like nothing is wrong?

Well I..

You what? You’re too busy?

Yes. I am very incredibly busy! I have A LOT going on right now, Blog. I’m sorry. It’s crazy busy at work (January and BOOM! Everybody wants to get healthy!). Not to mention we have this new doc that’s come on and nobody knows what they’re doing. AND we’re hiring someone to take my place so I can MOVE to Austin. I’ve been working like…10 hour days, Blog. And weekends!

Sure, sure. But really? I mean, 10 hours a day – that still leaves like 14 hours to show me some love?

I know. I know that things have been weird with us lately. I’m just so tired and my days are so boring, I have nothing to really talk about, you know? I wake up, go to work, my patients suck, I have ‘senioritis’, I’m hungry and sleepy all day, then I go home and stare at the tv for an hour. End day. My life is really dull, you don’t want to hear about that. It’s boring.

Pie

How do you know? Maybe I do.

Come on, Blog. I promise things will be better when I’m less stressed. Less tired.

But you’re not too tired to spend time browsing Pinterest and watching Seinfeld reruns are you?!

Oh, uh. Well, I mean it just helps me wind down at night, Blog. They don’t MEAN anything to me.

I SAW YOU WITH A GLAMOUR MAGAZINE THE OTHER NIGHT! AND IN THE BATHTUB NO LESS!

Shit. No one was supposed to know about that. I’m sorry, Blog. I really am. But I – I was thinking about you the whole time I swear! While I was reading that Glamour magazine, I was thinking about how “A Beauty Bucket List” is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard and how I don’t NEED Glamour’s permission to “Let it go to voicemail and then text them back”. Really, I mean, that’s fantastic writing fodder. It was all for you, Blog. Everything I do is for you.

Yeah, well it still hurts.

Hey! I’m trying over here! Somebody has to make some money to afford the lifestyle you require, Blog.

You don’t commit to anything!

I’ll commit to punching your face.

You’re flakey!

Fine, I’m flakey! I’M FLAKEY! I’m still going to punch you in the face.

You would never. Your ego depends on my popularity. You would never hurt me.

I know. I’m sorry, Blog. Please don’t go. We’re just going through a rough patch. Soon I’m going to move to Austin where I won’t have a job and we’ll have all the time in the world to discuss food and jobs and drinking and fun. I promise, Blog. I promise. Please don’t go.

Merry Music of the Damned

Monday, 12/17/12 9:14am

Megan:  there is some kenny g christmas on my radio that i definitely think you would enjoy

Erin:  oh man, if there’s one thing a monday morning needs it’s Kenny G’s ballshrinking shrill ass saxophone

Megan:  come on, it’s soothing and peaceful

Erin:  it’s the music they play in the lobby of hell, gah. just thinking about it is enraging me

Megan: there is no video of Kenny G live playin his christmas songs!

Erin: because he’s not a real person. just an idea of horrible music.a phantom, summoned by the sound of a soprano. i hear that if you stand in front of a mirror in the dark and say his name three times. he appears and murders your ears

Megan:  but it’s festive! okay, you have to sit in a room alone for 24 hours with the same music on loop. kenny g? or the wham christmas song? (YOU MUST WATCH THIS VIDEO BTWS)

Erin:  good god. what kind of twisted imagination asks that question??! i want to punch this video. ski chalet from hell. look at these yuppies and their huge coats

Megan:  you must answer!

Erin:  you’re sick dwyer

wham

Megan:  okay

Erin:  ugh. what would you pick?

Megan:  kenny g vs. that paul mccarney christmas song?

(wham)

Megan:  look this video comes with a christmas movie montage!

Erin:  duuuuuude

Erin:  remember that knife dildo from the movie SE7EN? that in my ear is what that paul mccartney song is

Megan:  soo..kenny g and his sexy curls beats sir paul this time??

Erin:  no i don’t think so. i would take knifey rape ear music over kenny g. they haven’t invented an instrument that represents kenny g’s tunes yet. there is no equivalent

Megan:  okay. so wham v. simply having a wonderFUL CHRISTMAS TIIIIME?

Erin:  why are you do this to meeeeeeeeeeee

Erin:  they’re all in my head now. um let’s see….damn, probably mccartney. because i’ve got childhood holiday memories of that song. whereas wham is a relatively new song (to me)

Erin:  christ i hate all those songs

Megan:

https://i2.wp.com/25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_me85vxN1681qdfyf3o2_1280.jpg

Erin:  i love ron swanson and his alter ego. but nothing, ever, could convince me to get on a sax train

Megan:  aw. you would suicide off a sax train.

Erin:  i would

PS. To redeem ourselves, check out this cover of “Last Christmas” by XX. It’s pretty great. http://www.uproxx.com/music/2012/12/hear-the-xxs-cover-of-a-rare-good-holiday-song-whams-last-christmas/

PPS. To further redeem ourselves: humor.

Those Cows

On Nov 14, 2012, at 6:31 PM, Megan <megan@gmail.com> to Erin:

I am still at work. Now sitting on hold like an asshole at 6:30pm. I am not a happy person. But I want to share this.

From one of my favorites in the twittersphere:

@Pourmecoffee: Judging you. Always judging you http://www.flickr.com/photos/annemiekeprozee/8172730148/lightbox/


And I shall keep them forever.

On Wed, Nov 14, 2012 at 7:14 PM, Erin <erin@gmail.com> to Megan:

I am deeply offended by your work schedule. I hope I don’t see you at all tomorrow and that you sleep forever. 

Ps: you and I are those cows